“But I thought that was seaweed..” He whined, his usual gentle eyes now replaced with half-lidded, desire glazed ones.

He was completely out of it— so high that he could only cling onto you, his face stuck nuzzling against your stomach. Rafayel was repeating your name like a mantra, groaning and moaning to top it off. Currently, he was positioned underneath you; or rather, you were straddling him.

For the pouty rascal that he was, he was strong. So strong that you couldn’t budge from your current position.

“Pretty..” He lulled his head to the right, staring up at you with a goofy expression. “..Mine..? Mine.”

His white hand went up in an attempt to cup your cheek— yet the drugs made his sense of directions completely off. His palm ended up on your shoulder.